


The Matchmaker

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Happens after Swearth, Matchmaking, Multi, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swerve had to do something for his friends considering all they were doing for him. And, considering his bad luck with love was also on his processor a lot lately – for reasons he did not want to think about – it would kill two birds with one stone to make himself into the matchmaker they clearly needed.</p><p>Swerve wasn’t lucky in love, but by Primus was he going to make sure his friends were!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matchmaker

Swerve wasn’t lucky when it came to love.

Well, in all honesty, he wasn’t lucky when it came to most things. But nowadays Swerve was trying to follow Rung’s advice and do his best to not think about that too much, and when he did he would refocus on what did go right.

Maybe he didn’t utilize his skills as metallurgist the vast majority of the time, but Swerve had his bar he had always dreamed of opening! And alright, so he didn’t co-own it with Blurr, but owning his business all on his own was pretty impressive if he did say so himself. He even had an employee, if Ten could be counted as such. And sure, sure, Swerve still didn’t have a quintessential best friend _per say_ , but after the whole Swearth incident, he at least knew that the crew cared about him. His friends cared about him. Even bots he hadn’t been sure counted him as a friend had risked their own sparks for him.

So alright, maybe Swerve was kinda lucky in some ways.

But even when accounting for his low self-esteem, the simple fact of the matter was that love was _not_ one of those ways. Never was and Swerve really couldn’t see that changing at any time soon.

Swerve did his best to not compare himself to the archetypes of his sitcoms, because the last thing he needed to do was go down that path again. But he did have to admit to himself that at the end of the day, he was the perpetually single character, which meant he had two options. He could wallow in his singlehood, grasping at every possible flirtation only to fall flat on his face for some cheap laughs, and Primus had he been playing that part all his life—

Or, he could accept it as his default setting and focus on the love lives of his other cast members.

Crew members.

Swerve had to lightly pat at his face, repeating the correct terms over and over again. Crew members. Friends. Companions. They were real and so was he and this was not a sitcom.

Right. Back on track.

Swerve had always given his opinion on any matter that came up, and romance and interfacing were no exceptions. He felt silly giving relationship or flirting advice, but he couldn’t help himself. If it came up, he was going to say something. And, frankly, running a bar meant the topics came up pretty constantly. And apparently his advice wasn’t half bad considering he had yet to get more than a handful of unsatisfied customers who came back to drown their sorrows.

So why didn’t he just lean into that? Instead of his singlehood being a major part of his character—no, his identity, not his character – maybe he should consider becoming the matchmaker type. Then his singlehood would just be a small aspect of who he was, not the defining one. Of course Swerve wouldn’t have time to find someone for himself when he was making sure all his friends got their slag in order, right?

Right.

It was still a character archetype, but it was a step up from comedy relief. Small steps were important. No one could expect Swerve to just completely bounce back as a healthy functioning bot.

Except that most of them did.

Swerve was still under orders to see Rung regularly, which had certainly helped. At the very least it meant that he knew he couldn’t fall back on using his holoform again. Having scheduled appointments he had to be physically there for helped to kick the habit. And Swerve’s friends actually came to his room from time to time, usually just on their way somewhere else, but always making the effort to check on him.

But otherwise, most everything sort of just reverted back to normal as they knew it on the Lost Light. There was always new drama and new problems to replace the old stuff. It hadn’t surprised Swerve that his issues would become old news.

Except that for a couple of bots, things did change.

* * *

Tailgate was already a bot that Swerve considered a friend, but he had really come out of his shell after what happened. Soon after Swerve had been given a clean bill of health and allowed to return to his room, he had found it scrubbed clean and organized, with a note from Tailgate on the berth. The other minibot had written about how his self-esteem issues had once nearly gotten him, Rewind, and Cyclonus offlined – taking his bomb disposal lie far enough that he actually tried to deactivate a real bomb instead of admitting to his fib – and that Swerve shouldn’t feel alone. Any time Swerve wanted to talk, he was always welcome to come visit or just ping him for a chat!

It had taken an hour for Swerve to read the rest of the letter in which Tailgate had gushed about everything he liked about Swerve. Between his cooling fans, his visor blurring and sparking, and the bubbling feeling in his tanks, he could only get in a few more sentences before he had to put the datapad away and collect himself again.

Since then, Swerve kept the datapad tucked away right by his bed. Sometimes, on nights when he couldn’t quite keep the thoughts at bay, he would pull it out. By now he had already memorized the words from reading it so many times, but just looking at them made him feel better.

And Tailgate hadn’t stopped there.

Even months later, every time he asked Swerve how he was and the bartender would smile and say he was fine, Tailgate’s visor’s brightness would narrow to a thin band, watching him critically to spot any lie. It was only when Swerve would either confirm he was telling the truth or, on occasions, admit that perhaps fine wasn’t the right word, that Tailgate’s investigations would relax. Tailgate would really listen to whatever Swerve said, and would in turn open up about his own concerns.

Lately, Tailgate had brought up his roommate often, and about how even though he and Cyclonus got along great now, he still worried that the large warrior found him to be annoying. Swerve was honestly shocked that his friend felt that way, considering how popular Tailgate seemed to be! Who didn’t like him?

Besides, he knew full and well that Cyclonus most definitely liked Tailgate _a lot_. The whole crew knew that. _Everyone_ knew that. But the other minibot would wave it off, insisting that just because it seemed to everyone else like Cyclonus could possibly hold romantic feelings for him, that there was simply no way! He just couldn’t believe that someone as dignified as Cyclonus would have more than maybe a friendly affection for him. Cyclonus was so cool, while he wasn’t.

Which was absolutely ridiculous! Anyone would be lucky to have Tailgate as their partner!

Swerve had certainly thought about it more often than he dared admit even to himself.

But as frustrating as Swerve found Tailgate’s self-doubt, he had to admit, he could get where Tailgate was coming from. Swerve was the master of self-doubt. It wasn’t logical, even if it _felt_ like it was, so he got it.

Not to mention he understood how incomprehensible it was to have Cyclonus as a part of his life. It was a verifiable truth now that the intimidating warrior seemed to consider Swerve someone worth caring about, and Swerve _still_ couldn’t believe it.

And yet, Cyclonus was the other bot who changed after Swerth.

The fact was that Cyclonus, someone who Swerve would have never dared to actually think considered him a friend, had become more, well, friendly. At the very least, friendly in the only ways the large, stoic bot knew how.

Cyclonus came to the bar more frequently, although he still did not drink a whole lot. He would nod at Swerve when he came in, and would do the same when he left. If Tailgate wasn’t with him, Cyclonus would sit by the main bar and listen to Swerve prattle to him throughout the night.

Sometimes, on busy nights, Swerve would turn around to find the intimidating warrior holding a tray of drinks that the bartender hadn’t had time to get to, simply asking him where he should take them. Cyclonus would always bring the tray back full of empty cubes he’d picked up on the way. And when Swerve had to go break up arguments before they became brawls, more often than not the offending parties would quickly disperse, and it was only upon looking up until he was nearly bent over backwards to find not just Ten, but _Cyclonus_ standing behind him, glowering, that Swerve realized why they left in such a hurry.

Swerve had jokingly asked if Cyclonus was bored enough that he was trying to get a job at his bar to fill the time, but Cyclonus simply shook his head and said he was helping, that was all. As if it was no big deal, not even a bother, and Swerve simply could not wrap his head around it.

Once, Swerve tried to suggest that he could slip Cyclonus some shanix, like a tip for the help! But the warrior had looked insulted, which on Cyclonus’s face was downright terrifying, so Swerve had quickly backpedaled and offered him a drink on the house instead. The compromise seemed to go over well enough considering Cyclonus’s hand was gentle against Swerve’s when he handed him the drink.

And that was another weird thing that had started to happen after Swearth. Cyclonus had become, of all things, touchy.

Not overly touchy, of course. There were _plenty_ of bots touchier than him.

But during the re-opening night after the incident, Swerve had nearly hiccupped into his alt form when Cyclonus had gently placed his hand on the bartender’s shoulder. The warrior had actually looked chagrinned, lifting his hand away and giving him an apology. But Swerve had been quick to start babbling that it was fine, totally fine, just a surprise! But not a bad surprise, nope, it was totally ok if Cyclonus wanted to do that, and Swerve had reached up to pull the hand back down and then patted Cyclonus on the hip. And then felt his face burn all the hotter as he apologized, and—

And Cyclonus had huffed and Swerve could have sworn it was nearly a laugh. Either way, he had patted Swerve’s shoulder once before settling it against the minibot’s plating as Tailgate insisted they stop being weird and pay attention to him, because this gossip wasn’t something they wanted to miss out on. Swerve had barely heard him over the pounding of his own spark though, way too aware of the comfortable weight of that large hand on his shoulder.

It seemed to be all the permission that Cyclonus had needed. It became normal for Swerve to feel those hands patting his head or squeezing his shoulder tires or hooking into his cowl to pull his attention where it needed to be.

It was nice and incredibly comforting. And some nights, when Swerve considered reverting to bad holoform habits – because just doing it for one night wouldn’t be that bad, right? – he would remember that Cyclonus’s touches wouldn’t feel nearly as nice when the sensations had to be transferred halfway across the ship. Wireless projections couldn’t capture the exact temperature of his palm or the surprisingly soothing tapping of his fingers against Swerve’s plating

* * *

Between Tailgate’s verbal support and Cyclonus’s physical presence, Swerve had to admit that he felt truly cared about for the first time in literal ages, and it melted his spark every time he thought about them.

And really, maybe the very different ways they treated Swerve was the reason they kept somehow missing each other, even though it was _so obvious_ that they both loved each other. Tailgate was like Swerve in that he was a lot of talk, constantly, and you had to read between the lines or even just stop him from rambling altogether to get to the truth. On the other hand, Cyclonus was a mech of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. For Swerve who had gone so long without much more than words from his friends, the sudden increase of those actions being aimed at him was so obvious and spark-warming, but perhaps Tailgate didn’t really notice or realize the intension.

They were so perfect for each other, but they just couldn’t see that the other felt the same.

Which gave Swerve the opportunity of a lifetime.

Swerve had to do something for his friends considering all they were doing for him. And, considering his bad luck with love was also on his processor a lot lately – for reasons he did _not_ want to think about – it would kill two birds with one stone to make himself into the matchmaker they clearly needed.

Swerve wasn’t lucky in love, but by Primus was he going to make sure his friends were!

* * *

Swerve didn’t think twice before answering the comm that pinged in his audial.

Being a scientist meant that his work shifts usually landed him in the labs or occasionally the med bay to help out the more dedicated scientists and medics on board, which was better than some of the slag that other bots had to do on their shifts. But that didn’t make cleaning up their messes any more interesting. Today had been spent organizing the supplies and tools – Brainstorm was known for being spacey, but Perceptor was surprisingly awful at putting things back where they belong when he really got into his projects – and now he was stuck cleaning out some slides.

He made sure to turn off the sensors in his hands before he did. Honestly, he did not want to know what compounds the scientists were messing around with now. Swerve had made that mistake once, and had spent the rest of the week a jittery mess because why were those compounds even allowed on the ship to start with, let alone used in experiments, _together_?

::Swerve! Are you free right now?:: Tailgate usually sounded pretty excited when he commed Swerve, but this time he sounded like he was practically vibrating out of his plating. Swerve’s mouth twisted into a smile just imagining how the other minibot must have looked.

::To talk? Always. I’m just cleaning some gunk that I don’t even want to think about.::

::Oh,:: Tailgate replied, disappointed. ::You’re on shift now?::

::Unfortunately. But that doesn’t mean I can’t talk!::

There was a pause. Swerve could only assume that Tailgate was thinking before replying, which piqued his curiosity further.

::I think it would be better to wait till later then. I really want to see the look on your face when I tell you!::

::What? Tell me what? You can’t leave me hanging like that--::

::Nope, no way! You aren’t getting anything out of me until after your shift.::

::After this I have to go open the bar. And you have a shift tonight, remember?::

::Oh. You’re totally right. How do you remember my schedule better than I do?::

::Clearly your memory chips are rusting in your old age.:: Tailgate groaned in exasperation across the commlink which just made Swerve snicker. ::Come on, Tailgate, just tell me! You’re killing me!::

::Hmm. Why don’t I swing by your room after my shift? You’ll be closed by then anyway, so if you don’t mind staying up late, we could talk then?::

Swerve’s spark pulsed strongly at that. Tailgate had been to his room to hang out and chat a few times now, so that was nothing new. But there was something about it being so late, and talking about something that sounded so important, that sent his processor down some very inappropriate paths.

However, that did lead him to the beginnings of an idea. Yeah, that would totally work, as long as he could get Cyclonus on board as well, this plan would _totally work_ —

::Why don’t you meet me at the bar after I close up?::

* * *

While Cyclonus had given Swerve his personal commlink – and boy did that throw the minibot into an excited tizzy – he had never actually used it before. Cyclonus came by the bar often enough, and more often than not when Swerve pinged Tailgate, the warrior was nearby.

Besides, their conversations tended to be pretty one-sided. Not that Swerve minded, since he figured out pretty quick that Cyclonus was actually _listening_ , which was shocking since even Swerve didn’t always pay attention to the slag that came out of his mouth. But he didn’t want to talk Cyclonus’s audial off even more than he already did.

Mostly, when Swerve was honest with himself, he was nervous to ping Cyclonus. Sure, sharing the commlink meant that he was giving permission for Swerve to contact him, but actually using it? Swerve’s frame felt tense and, just a little bit, he felt like he was going to purge. Maybe he should just give up. It’s not like anyone knew about his plan, so no one would know that he had chickened out and let his anxiety win this battle. He would just meet with Tailgate and no one would be the wiser!

Swerve reached up a hand to lightly slap at his own face. No! He could do this! He was done being the sad, pathetic one. He was the matchmaker now! And a good matchmaker wouldn’t back down just because they’re nervous to call someone up.

With his confidence boosted, Swerve pinged Cyclonus.

Every passing second as he waited was agony.

::Did you need something?::

Swerve’s hands fidgeted with the beaker in his grasp. The anxiety was still there, but something else bubbled up alongside it when Cyclonus’s voice wafted through his audial. Something most definitely pleasant.

::I don’t know that need is the word! But I did want to ask you something.::

Silence followed, and Swerve’s fingers interlocked tightly. He wasn’t sure if he should wait or if he should get right to the point or—

::What did you want to ask?::

::You’re working the night shift, right?::

::I am,:: Cyclonus answered, having only waited a couple seconds this time to reply.

::Cool, cool, so, if it isn’t a problem, do you think you could stop by the bar after you get off? No biggie if you can’t, just thought I’d check, see if you could.::

::You close before the shift ends.::

::Yeah, I know. I’ll still be around though, you know?::

::If you need help cleaning up, you can say so.::

Swerve nearly dropped the beaker. He fumbled with it before putting it down.

::Oh, no, nothing like that!::

::Then what is it?::

Swerve chewed at his bottom lip for a moment before blurting, ::It’s a surprise! Which I know sounds sketchy but I promise you’ll like it. Scout’s honor!::

::Very well,:: Cyclonus relented, and his tone sounded amused. For a brief moment, Swerve wondered if maybe, just maybe, the warrior was smiling. ::I will be there. Did you need anything else?::

::Just the knowledge that you’re eagerly awaiting my surprise!:: 

* * *

Swerve normally let some of the stragglers meander their way out while he cleaned up, but today he didn’t need anything to get in his way. He had Ten carefully escort them out – which ended up with Ten carrying Whirl cradled in his arms out into the hallway – and then went to work cleaning like a bot possessed. Everything had to be shiny and clean and perfect before he could start really setting the stage.

Most of the tables and chairs easily transformed away, folding and lowering down into the floor to create a less distracting backdrop. Ten helped him with the tables and chairs that didn’t, pulling and pushing at them until they were in just the right spot to finally follow through on the transformation command. Swerve considered and reconsidered the large center table. It could retract in some, making it a bit smaller, but it was still far too large for just two mechs to sit at. Too big to be romantic. So he had it shift away into the floor as well.

The bar surface wasn’t exactly romantic either, but it was best suited to Swerve’s plans. And, in all honesty, it would make figuring out how to do the lighting much easier. With all the rest of the lights in the room turned down low, the light from the engex dispensers bled out beautifully to softly illuminate the room in a spectrum of colors. It also framed the bar itself nicely. If this were a movie, this would be the perfect way to set up the scene. Two mechs, sitting at the bar in the low lights, the brilliant twinkling of the engex behind them as they slowly shifted closer together, talking in quiet, hesitant, but hopeful voices—

It was enough to get Swerve’s spark racing in his chest.

With a wave and a word of goodbye, he sent Ten on his way to leave the final touches to him.

Next was the music. Swerve had to admit that in many ways, as much as he enjoyed music, it wasn’t exactly his specialty. He spent far longer than he would have liked just swiping through his library, trying to settle on something that would be right. It had to be relaxed but moving, noticeable but not distracting. The perfect backdrop to a perfect moment.

Plus, it had to be something that they would both enjoy. That was probably the trickiest part. If Swerve had really planned this out the way he should have, he would have put the plan off for a couple of days, to really give himself the time necessary to pick the perfect songs.

Ultimately, time was growing short. In a panic, Swerve selected an instrumental soundtrack from one of his favorite romance movies and had it start to play. He would give it a listen while he set up everything else, and if it just really wouldn’t do, he might have time to pick something else before his friends arrived.

All that left was dressing the scene. Swerve pulled a small bottle of the finest engex he had at the moment, something he had picked up off-ship and had saved for just such a special occasion. It wasn’t too strong, but had been filtered so finely that it was smooth without having to be too sweet. It seemed like the perfect drink for his friends to share.

He placed it along with two fancy cubes on the bar. After a moment of questioning and re-questioning, he opened the bottle and poured some into the cubes. It just set the scene better this way. The way the light from the engex tubes danced on the liquid was just perfect.

Swerve took a step back to consider his work. The lighting was gorgeous, the music seemed to have just the right amount of sap without being overpowering, and the seats and drinks were inviting.

It was beautifully romantic. There was simply no way that, upon walking into this scene, Tailgate or Cyclonus would be able to help themselves. Everything about it screamed “I love you!”

Or, well. It screamed that they loved each other. Love was in the air. Something like that.

Swerve suddenly noticed the bittersweet pang in his chest, lifting a hand to his plating to feel the way his spark’s energy was pulsing strong enough that he could feel it tingling against his fingers. This was the worst time for these feelings to bubble up. He was the matchmaker, not someone to be matched. He needed to just repress and move on—

The five minute warning appeared on his HUD.

“Scrap,” he muttered, rebooting his visor and looking around him again. Was there anything he was missing? He felt like he was missing something. There was the setting, the lighting, the drinks—

Treats! He had forgotten the treats! Swerve had some energon treats tucked away under the bar that would be perfect. Some sticks, some jellies – perfect little bite-sized sweets. Even without a true mouth, Tailgate liked to play with the jellies, and if he squished them enough they could slide down his intake. And Cyclonus certainly wouldn’t have any problems, and despite what other bots assumed, his tastes did lean towards sweeter things, so those would be the best finishing touch.

Swerve gathered up some boxes of treats and a serving plate from behind the bar before carefully moving around. Once everything was set on the bar, he clambered onto the stool to kneel on it, giving him a better view of the plate as he started picking out the treats and placing them just so. The little details were important, after all. Once he had these set out, Swerve would make his quick escape and leave the magic of romance to do the rest of the work for him.

He should have realized years ago that this was what he was meant to be! Swerve the matchmaker had a pretty good ring to it. Maybe once the crew found out he had gotten these lovebirds together, requests would come in to help others with their crushes—

“Swerve?”

The minibot swung his head and shoulders around as panic bloomed in his chest. Oh no, it was too early—

The momentum didn’t stop when Swerve spotted Cyclonus at the door, his optics bright as he peered in curiously. The stool started to spin, causing Swerve to yelp and reach blindly to his side to grab the bar and steady himself. His hand hit a cube instead, practically slapping it to slide and spill across the bar surface until it finally found an edge and clattered to the floor.

The only saving grace was that Swerve managed to stay upright on the stool.

“C-Cyclonus! You’re early!” Swerve all but yelped, aware that his visor was flickering, giving away his distress. “I’m not—it’s not ready yet, but I can – I should clean this up. You know me, such a klutz!” He spun the stool back to the bar surface, taking the chance to look away from Cyclonus as he pulled out a rag from his subspace to start cleaning what he could reach. “Did you get off early? You must have gotten off early, I should have planned for that. Let me just wipe this away, no worries, everything will go back to the plan.”

Swerve had somehow managed to miss the sound of Cyclonus’s footsteps, because suddenly the warrior’s hand was loosely wrapped around his wrist, bringing Swerve’s motions to a full stop. The song that had been playing ended, further emphasizing the sudden silence and Swerve’s words caught in his vocalizer.

“Is this for me?”

Cyclonus’s voice was so _soft_ , catching Swerve by surprise. He couldn’t help turning a bit so he could look at the warrior, try to figure out what that voice meant, and felt his ventilation hitch.

Cyclonus was _smiling_. He was smiling an actual, mouth turned up at the corners, _smile_.

“Y-yeah,” Swerve replied dumbly, chuckling nervously as his free hand reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, and he tried to look away from Cyclonus but his visor kept refocusing on that face, that _smile_. “You caught me. I hope you don’t mind me meddling, but I just couldn’t help myself, you know? You’ve been so nice to me, which means a lot. You don’t even know how much it means. I just want you to be happy too--”

Cyclonus’s fingers were gentle but insistent as they slide away from Swerve’s wrist to instead tuck themselves around his hand to hold it. Swerve’s vocalizer failed him again. This was a whole other level of touchy, much more than Swerve would have expected since it wasn’t something he would classify as friendly, but it felt so _nice_ that he couldn’t find it in him to pull his hand away.

“Thank you. You did not need to go to such lengths.”

“Of course I did! You deserve to have everything be perfect!” Swerve insisted, visor dimming in place of a proper wince at how strained his voice sounded. Cyclonus squeezed his hand and Swerve’s circuits felt as if they were sparking.

“You’re enough as you are.”

Swerve felt his jaw drop a bit. His processor came to a complete standstill.

Oh. He thought this was all for him. Just him. From Swerve.

 _Oh_.

“Hey Swerve, you in? Why are all the lights out?”

_Oh no._

Swerve’s head snapped to the side to see Tailgate pushing through the door, visor instantly landing on the bar. However, instead of every worst case scenario that Swerve was already imagining – he was supposed to be a matchmaker, not a homewrecker! – Tailgate let out a disappointed whine.

“Nooo, Cyclonus! You haven’t already told him, have you? I was looking forward to this!”

Cyclonus’s hand tensed up suddenly against Swerve’s.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

Swerve felt like his spark had made its way to his intake and vents, choking him as he shifted his gaze from Tailgate, back to Cyclonus, and then back to Tailgate once more.

“Tell me what?” he managed shakily. It didn’t seem like Tailgate noticed his nervousness though since his visor brightened from across the room as he practically bounded over to the bar.

“About Cyclonus and me, of course!” Tailgate said, coming to stand next to the pair. One of his hands lifted to settle on Cyclonus’s hip while the other rested on Swerve’s knee. It was so much smaller than Cyclonus’s, but just as warm, if not warmer. “Last night I finally took your advice to talk to Cyclonus about my feelings, and now we’re together! Well, not _officially_ officially, like conjunx endura, since we’re gonna wait a little longer before we finalize it with the ceremony and paperwork and stuff, but you know. I wanted to tell you right away but our schedules didn’t work, and I _really_ wanted to tell you in person, so I hope you don’t mind.” After a moment, Tailgate added with a hint of concern in his voice, “Are you ok?”

“Yep, I’m fine,” Swerve said, swallowing around the lump in his intake. His tanks felt like they were twisted and his spark was starting to hurt and he felt sick and he hated it. So he shoved it all down and forced a wide grin on his face. “Better than fine, actually, because wow, that’s great! You two are so great together, like perfect for each other, the perfect couple! I’m so happy for--”

“You’re shaking,” Cyclonus interrupted, his hold on Swerve’s hand tightening, and a pang of guilt wracked Swerve’s processor, because Tailgate was _right there_.

And yet, the other minibot didn’t seem concerned about their hands. Instead Tailgate’s focus was completely on Swerve, the hand he had on Cyclonus moving so he had a hand on each of Swerve’s knees now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Why would anything be wrong?” Even Swerve could hear how hollow his forced laugh was.

The band of light of Tailgate’s visor narrowed.

“Swerve, tell me what’s wrong.”

Swerve squirmed, too aware of all their attention was on him and their _hands_. He wanted to lie, to keep up the façade because he wanted to be happy, he really did. But Swerve knew that Tailgate wouldn’t give up, would keep pushing, and the inevitability of the truth being dragged out of him made it easier to just let it go.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I mean, I _should_ be happy, right? I wanted this to happen!” Tailgate’s thumbs were rubbing circles against his knees and it felt so nice and it only made Swerve feel worse. “I guess maybe I was too excited about my plan? Some matchmaker I turned out to be.”

“Matchmaker?” Tailgate repeated back, slightly tilting his head to one side.

Cyclonus’s face shifted though, realization dawning.

“This was meant for me and _Tailgate_ ,” Cyclonus said. Swerve’s lips pressed tight together as he nodded miserably. Tailgate glanced between the two of them before finally seeming to notice the drinks, the sweets, the lighting and the music, the damned music that was still playing, the spark-swelling romantic crescendo that Swerve recognized from the climax of the movie, meant for _them_ , not for _him_ —

“You did all this for us? To get us together?” Swerve nodded again, dejected. Tailgate grabbed at his free hand, tugging it so he could hold it in both of his, his visor dimmed a bit. “Swerve, this is so nice! I feel bad for ruining your plan now. I should have just told you this morning, but I was just so excited to see your face! I’m sorry.”

“What – no! You don’t need to apologize,” Swerve stammered. “Like I said, I’m just being dumb, so uh. You know what? I’ll just leave you two alone. Instead of a setup, since you guys managed that yourselves, it can be my gift to celebrate you two!” He tugged his hands free from the couple so he could brace them on the bar to keep himself steady as he moved to get off his knees. All Swerve had to do was get back onto his aft and then he could just slide off the stool and make his quick escape. “Have a couple drinks, some snacks, and you can just lock it up behind you when you’re done. I’ll take care of it tomorr--”

One of Swerve’s hands landed in one of the puddles of engex on the bar and slipped, his balance thrown off to one side and threatening to send him face first into the edge of the surface if Cyclonus hadn’t caught him with ease. The warrior then picked him up off of the stool so that Swerve could straighten out his legs. But when he lowered him to the ground, Cyclonus knelt down to be on the same level as the two minibots. Tailgate didn’t move out of the way either, keeping Swerve trapped between them, the stool, and the bar.

Swerve’s spark was spinning out of control. His frame felt hot with humiliation and disappointment and guilt and shame, Primus, the shame was eating at him, because Cyclonus left one of his hands on his side and Tailgate was holding him by the shoulder and it felt like their hands were all that was anchoring him in reality and he didn’t want them to let go.

“You should stay,” Cyclonus said carefully, glancing at Tailgate who nodded.

“Yeah! We’ll get another chair and we can sit and talk for a while, ok? Or if you’re feeling dizzy, we can go sit in one of the booths instead.”

Swerve’s visor flickered and blurred and he hiccupped and it sounded too much like a sob.

“I’m sorry you guys, I’m ruining everything,” Swerve said, raising his hands to his chest and trying his best to choke down any more pathetic sounds. “I thought this was fine, that I wanted you two to get together, and I did – I do! I really do! You both make me so happy, and I want you to be happy too. I did all this to get you together and happy, but now you are and you didn’t need my help and I—I guess I’m not fine?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, especially since the answer was a resounding no, Swerve was not fine. But it was too hard to admit as a fact.

Tailgate stepped forward, his other hand reaching past Swerve’s shoulder, and it took a couple of seconds to realize he was hugging him. It was awkward since with his cowl, Swerve couldn’t hide his face away in Tailgate’s shoulders, could only stare back, visor to visor.

Swerve’s hands, still held to his chest, slowly turned to hook into the edge of Tailgate’s chest plate and held on tightly.

“You know we like you too, right?”

With a raspy in-vent, Swerve shrugged weakly.

“Logically, yeah. I know you’ll probably keep being my friends.”

Tailgate’s visor brightened.

“Well duh! We aren’t going to stop having friends just because we’re together,” Tailgate said, leaning his head forward until their foreheads touched. Immediately Swerve’s mind reminded him of all the times he had seen Chromedome and Rewind like this, all but curled up at a booth, heads nuzzled together, and he had always wondered if that was just them, or if all conjunx with faceplates did that, and the need to know was officially through the roof. “But I didn’t mean it like that.”

Swerve’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He tried a couple of times, but every time he started his vocalizer, he came to the same conclusion: he didn’t know what to say. There was no possible way that meant what it sounded like. Even if Tailgate had sounded a bit shy, and he was still hugging him and still resting their heads together and all it would take is a slight shift and Swerve could plant a kiss on that faceplate—

But it couldn’t be! There was no way. Swerve was perpetually single, that’s who he was, no one ever liked him that way, so it didn’t make sense. They loved each other romantically, not him, why would they need Swerve to muck up their relationship?

Another wave of anxiety started to rise in Swerve and he was embarrassed to hear the rattling of his plating against Tailgate’s when the shaking started up again.

“If this is a joke, please stop,” Swerve said quietly. This time it was Tailgate’s visor that flickered as he pulled his head back a bit.

“What – no! No, no, it’s not, I promise I wouldn’t do that to you,” Tailgate insisted. He stepped away from the hug and Swerve felt crushed at first, but then the other minibot was reaching out to grab at Cyclonus and tug him closer. “I know we agreed to wait but I think we need to tell him now. Is that ok?”

Cyclonus’s optics moved from Tailgate to Swerve, and his look was so _soft_.

“I believe I may have already given us away earlier,” Cyclonus said, reaching out to curl his fingers around one of Swerve’s hand. Swerve just gapped at him. “I assumed Tailgate had already told you, so when I walked in on you setting up here, I thought you were planning on courting me.”

Swerve had to reset his audials because no matter which way he spun the words, Cyclonus wasn’t making any sense.

“But I wouldn’t – I wouldn’t do that to Tailgate!” Swerve cried, turning to look at the other minibot beseechingly. “I would never suggest Cyclonus cheat on you with me, I swear! I wouldn’t want you guys to break up over me!”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Tailgate said, his hand that was still around Swerve’s shoulders moving down to capture his other hand. “What we’re saying though is that it wouldn’t be cheating if it was with you.”

Swerve turned his visor back to Cyclonus, searching for an explanation.

Cyclonus huffed and it was definitely an amused sound. His hand squeezed Swerve’s.

“After discussing our feelings for one another, we discussed our feelings for you.”

“Me?” Swerve squeaked, looking to Tailgate whose visor was bright in his own version of a smile.

“We both want to court you.”

Swerve’s gaze moved from one to the other and back again, and both of his friends seemed to be one hundred percent serious.

His spark had to be making an attempt to break out of his chest with how harshly it was pulsing.

“Both of you?”

Cyclonus hummed his assent and Tailgate nodded with a chipper “Yep!”

“So then if it worked out, there would be three of us? Together?”

Cyclonus was smiling as Tailgate said, “Afraid you can’t keep up with a couple of old bots?”

Swerve rebooted his audials and his visor and they were still standing there, waiting for an answer. Swerve was pretty sure his knees were going to give out from under him.

“You want to court _me_?”

Tailgate made an exaggerated groan and said, “Yes, you, you dummy!” before stepping up close again, nuzzling his forehead against Swerve’s, and yeah, that was _definitely_ his version of a kiss. Swerve’s lips wobbled and twitched until they pulled up into what had to be a goofy looking grin.

Maybe he _was_ fine.

Cyclonus’s fingers moved, but not to release Swerve’s hand. Instead, they curled to hold and lift the minibot’s hand to his face and he placed a so, _so_ gentle kiss on his knuckles. “It would be an honor to court you.”

This time Swerve’s legs did give out on him, but he just giggled as Tailgate and Cyclonus caught him, as Cyclonus swept him up in his arms and carried him over to one of the booths, as Tailgate went back and forth from the bar to the booth carting the treats and engex and enough cubes for all three of them.

Maybe his luck wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something to fill my three day weekend and make some content for these three! Because honestly there should be so much more for them.


End file.
